


you and i'll be safe and sound

by Aesthetic_Wreck



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e03 The Chute, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Literally every show refuses to resolve trauma, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Platonically, Post-Episode s03e03 The Chute, Psychological Trauma, Sharing a Bed, and i'm trying to fix that, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesthetic_Wreck/pseuds/Aesthetic_Wreck
Summary: Harry is still blaming himself for what he did to Tom, and it starts to invade his dreams. When Tom finds out, he decides Harry has protected him enough and wants to help him. Set post-s03e03: The Chute
Relationships: Harry Kim & Tom Paris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	you and i'll be safe and sound

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sad at how small the Voyager fandom is. It's a great show with a unique plot and wonderful characters, especially Harry and Tom. I feel like Harry probably still blamed himself after this episode, despite Tom's reassurances, so I made this thing that I got the idea for while I was in the shower.

_The jeers and taunts of the other prisoners reverberated louder and louder in Harry’s head as he swung to face each crowd, posed protectively in front of Tom._

_“This man is my friend. Nobody touches him,” Harry spat, swinging the pipe before the prisoners. Harry no longer cared about anything besides the feebly moving figure of his best friend behind him. But right as Harry swerved right to face his enemies, Tom let out a strangled yell._

_“No! No, please stop!” Harry tried to whirl around but the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. Painstakingly slowly, Harry turned to face Tom, only to find a second figure thrashing wildly, yanking a pipe from Tom’s grasp—_

_Himself._

_A paralyzing terror seized Harry in his very bones. His legs stood stiff and useless in his attempt to run forward, and he could only helplessly watch himself wrench the pipe free and swing it upward and down, down, down. It made contact with Tom’s head with a sickening crunch and a scream of agony. It didn’t stop. The pipe kept crashing, crushing, killing, and Tom wouldn’t stop screaming—_

Harry flailed sideways, his legs entangled in his sheets. As he fell off the bed and made contact with the floor, his arm knocked against the com console on his nightstand. Even as the realization of where he was started to come to him, Harry couldn’t just let the matter rest, he had to be absolutely sure.

“Kim to Paris,” he gasped, struggling to get his breath. He’s alright, Harry tried to convince himself. You didn’t kill him, it was just a dream.

“Harry, are you alright?” Tom’s sleepy voice sounded through the speakers, and Harry almost collapsed in relief. Tom was safe, he was talking to Harry now. Is it really him, though? Harry almost rolled his eyes at himself for wondering such a thing. Almost. Remembering Tom, however, Harry cleared his throat, willing it not to break.

“Yeah, Tom. Everything’s fine.” Harry knew the words were too forced as soon as they left his mouth, and Tom sure wasn’t fooled.

“Harry, it’s 0200 hours, and you sure as hell don’t sound alright. What’s going on?” Tom’s voice had taken on the stern tone he adopts when he’s worried about someone.

“I just…” Harry wracked his brains, trying to come up with some excuse, but he took too long to answer.

“That’s it, I’m coming over there.” Harry’s head jerked up. No, Tom couldn’t see him like this, a pathetic mess. “Sit tight, Harry. Paris out.”

Tom ended the communication before Harry could respond, and what could he say anyway? Tom would see through any bullshit excuse in an instant. Slightly belatedly, Harry realized he was still half-sitting, half-lying on the floor. He pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, his heart still pumping a little too fast, his hands still shaking. It had only been the day before when the Doctor released them from sickbay after they had broken out of the Akritirian prison, and Harry still felt jumpy and wrong, and despite Tom’s reassurances, was still painfully guilt-ridden for nearly having killed his best friend.

The door chimed. Harry considered just ignoring Tom, locking the door, but that would only appear more suspicious. He tried to arrange his face into a neutral expression and took in a deep breath.

“Come in,” he sighed resignedly, and the door swooshed open, Tom overtaking the distance in three great strides.

“Harry, you look like hell, what’s wrong?” Tom didn’t seem convinced by Harry’s “neutral” face at all, and sat himself down next to Harry on the bed. Harry suddenly found it difficult to look at Tom and focused on the floor instead.

“It’s really not that bad, it was just a dream,” Harry said in a small voice, swallowing hard. Tom sighed in realization and slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“About the Akritirian prison?” he asked softly. Harry nodded, unable to say anything else.

“I get it,” Tom said, tightening his grip on Harry’s shoulders slightly. “I’ve had my fair share of prison, but no one could be prepared for that.” Tom paused for a moment, then turned his head to peer at Harry, who was still refusing to look at him. “You’re not still blaming yourself, right?” he asked, sounding both worried and a little exasperated. Harry finally found the guts to look at Tom, which turned out to be a mistake, as his vision started to blur slightly as he looked at his friend.

“I did kill you this time. In the dream, I mean,” Harry breathed deeply, determined to stay in control. “I was watching myself do it while trying to keep everyone else away. I kept hitting you with the pipe, and I— the me watching— I couldn’t move, and I just kept hitting you and I couldn’t stop and I couldn’t move—”

Harry’s breathing was growing frantic and erratic, his throat closed and his vision blurred even more. He looked back down at the floor, desperately trying to keep some semblance of control—

“Hey. Hey,” Tom’s voice came into focus, and Harry became aware of a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Harry, c’mon, I need you to breathe, alright? We’re both fine, it wasn’t your fault.”

That was it. Neither of them had ever said the word _fault;_ it was almost as though they couldn’t bring themselves to say it for some reason. As soon as the word was out in the air, it was all Harry could focus on. He tried to kill Tom, he almost did kill Tom, and Tom had gotten worse because of it and it was all _Harry’s fault._ A sob ripped from his throat, and Harry clapped a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the sound. Tom’s other arm sild around Harry and pulled him close. Harry finally gave in, burying his face into Tom’s shoulder and allowing the tears to fall.

Harry was vaguely aware of Tom whispering reassurances to him, which got resolved into words.

“Shh, it’s alright, we’re okay. You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?” Tom continued to rub circles into Harry’s back and brought his free hand up to card it through Harry’s hair. Harry didn’t know where the hell Tom had learned to be so tactful and reassuring, but he wasn’t about to complain. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only about ten minutes, Harry felt himself calming down. He pulled away from Tom’s embrace, slightly embarrassed, but incredibly grateful. Tom kept one hand on Harry’s back, and Harry was far too tired to shrug it off. Looking to lighten the mood a little, he glanced at Tom and attempted to grin.

“So, where did you learn to be so comforting all of a sudden?” he asked, trying to sound teasing and sarcastic. Tom laughed softly.

“To be honest, Harry, I think it was you,” he said, still smiling but perfectly serious in tone.

“Me?” Harry sounded more surprised than skeptical.

“Yeah, you’re a bit better at...this,” Tom gestured vaguely to the two of them, “than I am. I really learned that when we were in the prison. So I pretty much just did what I thought you would do if our roles were reversed.”

Harry felt his face heat up, but couldn’t come up with a protest like usual. Yawning, Harry again tried to stifle himself with his hand.

“You think you’re able to get back to sleep?” Tom asked, sounding a little concerned again.

“I guess I’ll try,” Harry said, unable to keep a slight tone of apprehension out of his voice as he laid back down. Tom noticed this, hesitated for a moment, then laid down on the bed beside Harry.

“What’re you doing?” Harry asked, slightly confused as he watched Tom get comfortable.

“I already told you I remembered you saying: ‘This man is my friend. Nobody touches him.’ I also remember being scared out of my mind, unable to sleep, and telling you not to leave me alone.” Tom looked Harry right in the eye. “You stayed with me then. I’m gonna do the same for you now.”

Harry took all this in for a moment, then he took Tom’s hand in his and smiled.

“Guess I did teach you well,” he murmured, sleep tugging on the corners of his mind. He heard Tom chuckle again and felt him place his other hand on top of Harry’s, mirroring what Harry did for him back in the dark prison once again. Harry allowed himself to relax, knowing that Tom was safe, and succumbed to the release of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
